


Teach Me How To Love You

by phylocalist



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, M/M, teacher!gerard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:56:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phylocalist/pseuds/phylocalist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Probably –surely- all the class knows about Frank's big crush on Mr. Way. But really, he doesn't even blame himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach Me How To Love You

It's late. It's really fucking late and Frank probably shouldn't be here anymore, but he sent his mom a text and since she said it was alright for him to stay, he's not going to worry about that too much. What he _is_  going to worry about is being in the same room as Mr. Way for so long.  
  
Probably –surely- all the class knows about Frank's big crush on Mr. Way. But really, he doesn't even blame himself. Who wouldn't have a crush on Mr. Way? His pale skin, those big hazel eyes that stand out wherever he is, that hair that seems hasn’t touched a hair brush in years, the way he rolls his sleeves up to his elbows anytime he's going to paint something or it gets hot, the way his waistcoat seems to fit him just perfectly, even his little crooked teeth seem attractive to Frank. So he tries not to feel guilty whenever he glances up from whatever he's doing to look at Mr. Way and practically melt on his desk.  
  
He stayed late this day because it was a Friday, he had nothing better to do and Mr. Way’s classroom is always a mess. He supposes that the artist part of Mr. Way comes out in the way he lets his classroom get all messy and gets color splattered everywhere, but since Frank isn’t so much of an artist and is more of a clean-freak, he had offered to stay after school and help Mr. Way to organize the stuff on his classroom. Mr. Way had thanked him profusely, all smiles and gratitude, and Frank had blushed.  
  
“I think that for now it looks okay, Frank,” Mr. Way’s voice snaps Frank out of his thoughts and he looks up from the paint cans he was organizing. Mr. Way’s standing, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed and looks down to Frank, with a thoughtful smile on his lips. Frank wonders if he had been watching all this time without him noticing.  
  
Frank stands up and cleans his hands on his jeans, nodding and blushing a little bit. He didn’t feel Mr. Way staring, but he didn’t really feel whenever someone was watching him. “I would probably put these up there and then organize the books you have there, maybe by year…?” he trails off, thinking about a good and simple way to organize the bookcase and starts walking towards them without noticing. Suddenly, he feels a hand on his shoulder.  
  
Mr. Way’s hand feels warm and light on his shoulder, almost as if the teacher didn’t want to touch him; but the smile that lights up his face is grateful and kind of amused. “It’s okay, Frank. It’s gonna end up being a mess again, anyway,” Mr. Way shrugs and lets his hand fall off Frank’s shoulder. Frank feels Mr. Way’s fingers as they drop from his shoulder, light as feathers, and shivers.  
  
“I can always stay and clean up again…” Frank offers, unsure if it’s appropriate or not. Mr. Way smiles and shakes his head, with an amused sort of look, as if he couldn’t believe someone like Frank existed. Frank shifts his weight from one leg to another, suddenly awkward.  
  
“We’ll see.”

*

When they’re about to part ways, Mr. Way brings a hand up to his forehead and makes a soft noise that sounds as if he’s dying inside. Frank looks up at him, surprised and curious, and Mr. Way let’s his hand drop and sighs deeply.  
  
“Is there… anything wrong?” Frank asks and turns his hand into fists into the inside of his pockets. He isn’t sure if it's his place to ask or not, but he is getting kind of concerned about Mr. Way.  
  
Mr. Way sighs yet another time and nods, looking the most miserable Frank has ever seen anyone looking. “I forgot I didn’t bring my car today.”  
  
The guy even fucking pouts and Frank feels the need to kick anyone who made him forget. But how could you even forget that you didn’t bring your car to work? Instead, Frank rolls his eyes and looks around, wondering what will Mr. Way do, when he feels a hand touch his arm lightly.  
  
“C’mon, I’ll walk you to the bus stop, then. I’ll have to take a bus too, it seems.” Mr. Way’s voice is quiet and Frank can hear the smile on it, so he looks up and smiles back at Mr. Way, nodding.  
  
The walk there isn’t as awkward as Frank expected. It isn’t really that far from school, so it doesn’t take them too long, but Frank still has time to freak out on his mind and try to calm himself down. It’s like every chick flick cliche, where the guy walks the girl home and then they kiss on the porch and say goodbye with goofy smiles on their faces. But Frank reminds himself that this is no chick flick and he isn’t a girl.  
  
Mr. Way leans against a light post to wait for the bus while Frank sits down on a bench. He puts his backpack on his lap and sighs. Mr. Way looks over at him and gets off the light post to sit next to him. Frank shifts on his seat and stiffs his back.  
  
“So, what bus do you take?” Mr. Way’s voice comes out calm and seems to blend with the darkness of the late afternoon that surrounds them. The question feels natural and the tone Mr. Way uses makes it feel as if they were already having a conversation and were carrying on with it, instead of it being a conversation starter. Frank feels hypnotized by it, but he snaps himself out of his trance to answer his teacher’s question. When he does, Mr. Way turns to look at him with wide eyes and a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “Are you serious? Fuck,” the word slips past his lips before he can help it and his eyes wide even more. Frank snorts and laughs a little.  
  
“We’re not on school property anymore, Mr. Way. I think it’s safe for you to curse without being told not to.”  
  
“Whatever. I still shouldn’t do it,” Mr. Way rolls his eyes but seems to let the topic slip with that and then lets the smile he was trying to contain before show. “I take the same bus!” he seems really excited to be able to say that and Frank looks at him with eyes as wide as his teacher’s were some moments ago. He can’t believe it. He can’t believe he lived so near Mr. Way all this time and he didn’t know. He would have known. You couldn’t just not know that someone like Mr. Way was living near you.  
  
“Are you serious?”  
  
“Of course I’m serious, Frank! I think I should know where I live,” Mr. Way laughs, amused, and Frank can’t help but laugh with him. He feels his cheeks heat up a little and he doesn’t know if it’s because of how embarrassed he is that he actually asked his teacher that or because he’s sitting so close to Mr. Way. He can feel the warm that radiates off his body and the way the rolled up sleeve sometimes touches the bare skin of his arm.  
  
“So…” Both Frank and Mr. Way say at the same time. They look at each other’s eyes and explode in giggles again. Frank blushes even more and motions for Mr. Way to continue with what he was going to say. “I was wondering… since I assume that we live not very far from each other, why don’t we take a taxi and split the money?”  
  
Frank looks up and tries to hide his blush. “Yeah, sure, that’ll be great.”  
  
Once they get into the taxi, Frank wonders if it will be awkward again. If it will feel like when Mr. Way was leaning against that post light and Frank was sitting on the bench. If they won’t talk or won’t look at each other. If they will just exchange money and hop off of the taxi when they arrive at their destinations. He fears it will be like that.  
  
But it’s not.  
  
Frank has learned over the few months of being Mr. Way’s student that the guy always seems to have something to say and to talk about and he always seems to know how to start and carry on with a conversation smoothly. And this time it’s not different. Mr. Way starts talking and Frank sometimes offers something to the conversation, but it’s all mostly on Mr. Way’s part. At one point, the teacher asks Frank to call him by his first name, Gerard. Frank looks at him, surprised, and he thinks he can see Mr. Way’s cheeks flush a bit. He isn’t sure, though, because it’s dark and he can’t almost see the teacher’s face, but he’s pretty sure that’s a shade of red on his cheeks. He smiles and agrees to call him by his first name.  
  
The taxi seems to be taking forever to even get to the neighborhood Frank lives in, but he doesn’t mind. He couldn’t care less about that, because he’s got Mr. Way talking to him as if he’s known him forever about things he would talk with his friends: horror movies, comics, action figures; but also, about things none of his friends have idea of: fine art, paint shades, canvases sizes.  
  
Frank loves it. He can’t help but love the way Mr. Way’s voice sounds when he talks about something he loves. It sounds beautifully filled with passion. Frank can only hope he will talk like that about something one day. For now, he is content with hearing Mr. Way’s voice in the dark, see his little crooked teeth flash in little, shy smiles, see his eyes gleam when he talks about a topic he is really passionate about, and hear his little giggles so full of life and happiness and youthfulness that make Frank’s heart skip a beat.  
  
He can’t help it. He loves it and he loves _him_. He thought he just had a little crush on Mr. Way and the way he walks and the way he paints, but it’s more than that. Oh, boy, it is so much more than that. It’s the way he talks and the way his eyes gleam in the dark and the way his voice seems to hypnotize Frank and the way he makes Frank want to wrap his arms around him and kiss him until he’s out of breath.  
  
Frank can feel his palms sweat at just the mere thought of it, of him falling for a teacher that probably doesn’t even think of him outside of school. But then Mr. Way flashes a grin over to him and asks about him and how far done is he with that last piece he was doing for class and Frank doesn’t regret it. He doesn’t care he is falling for his teacher. He could not have chosen someone better to fall for.  
  
So he grins back and keeps talking and keeps dreaming and keeps falling.


End file.
